Maple Leaves
by Kuragi
Summary: A simple gift from him healed her soul...and her heart. {Yuki x Machi, manga spoilers}
1. Reflections

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Fruits Basket/ Furuba, or its characters.

For those of you who haven't read the later chapters of the manga, Kuragi Machi is a freshman in Kawaia High, the accountant on the student council.  Unlike the rest of the school, she feels that Yuki is not a "prince," only a lonely person hiding behind a façade.  This, of course, invokes the wrath of the Prince Yuki Club, who harass Machi in Ch. 89.

As, sadly, (**SPOILER**) Yuki feels that his relationship with Tohru is like that of a mother and son, the only other possible candidate for his affections is Machi.  I sincerely hope that more YukixMachi fanfiction will appear in the future, as they do make a sweet couple.

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She ran her fingers down the edges of her book rather absently, her eyes blank and unfocused.  She couldn't concentrate in this empty state, not on her studies, not on anything.  Her thoughts were disconnected, vague, meaningless, a vortex of complete nothingness. 

She tried to focus, beads of sweat running down her face as she strained, but her lack of energy stopped her from getting any farther than the first sentence.  Words bounced dizzily across the page, which only made her head ache harder and spin more furiously than before.

With a sigh, she shut her textbook, her mind still devoid of the information the author so persistently tried to cram in.  Still calmly stroking the pages, one of her fingers caught on a piece of red sticking out insolently from beneath the rest.  She flicked it back and forth mildly for a few moments before she realized what it was.

Opening up the textbook slowly, she found her realization to be correct.  Wedged thickly between two sheaves of paper was a maple leaf of brilliant crimson, flecked with brown in several spots.  Yuki's maple leaf.  She had almost forgotten it was there.

She traced a path around the apex tenderly with her fingers, sliding them down the midrib and across the veins.  She still didn't know why she even bothered keeping it.  Only that she could not throw it away.  Never.

_How foolish of me_, a mild stream of thought ran along her mind.  _It's only a leaf.  A worthless piece of trash._ A quick rebuttal was strewn in.  _It's not._  _I won't throw it away.  Yuki gave it to me.  _Why this should be important she didn't know, but it nagged at the back of her head until she had to throw it in.

Yuki.  She closed her eyes, the little red leaf still perched on her hands, and drew his image to mind.  He was as every bit as princely his classmates believed him to be as far as looks went, with pale, milky skin, glossy lavender-grey tresses, eyes of fiery heliotrope, and long, black up-curled lashes fringed on creamy eyelids.  But past that was a different image, the exact opposite of what a prince should be.

He had always seemed to her lonely and distorted, someone alone and lost in the cold, unfriendly world.  Though he had won the envy and admiration of his fellow classmates, he had always seemed far-off and distant, wrapped up in his own troubled mind.  Someone of her kin.

Maybe it was because she understood him so well that he so silently and constantly entered her thoughts, that she kept his gift.  Maybe it was because she saw him as a reflection of her own self, because he, too, was misunderstood by others.  Maybe…maybe that was why she wanted to be closer to him, to know him better, to be able to cast out his loneliness and hunger for human companionship, and, in the process, cast out her own.

She and Yuki both had walked life's long, winding path, alone and forsaken, both hiding behind a façade of false cheer or stolidity.  Both had no one to understand or empathize with them, no one to save them from their greatest enemy: themselves.  Darkness gnawed at them both from inside them, filling their minds with cold, bitter thoughts and portrayals of themselves.  They had both questioned their existence, whether the world would miss them if they were never there, or be glad of it.

These last thoughts were somewhat strange to her, as she had never compared herself to Yuki in this manner before, nor did she know anything of Yuki to assume this, but she knew that they were true.  Yuki wasn't that much different from herself, and because of this, she felt a rush of sympathy for him, something she had never felt before.  Even for herself.

And what was this…this fluttering feeling she experienced when he was around?  Why did she suddenly become awkward or clumsy whenever she caught sight of him, that her heart skipped a beat whenever she heard his name?  Why should she even care about him, sympathize for his loneliness, stand up for him whenever others regarded him as the perfect image of a prince?  _Did_ she even care about him?  Wasn't she only a blank, dull, non-existent spirit, lost in a world of real and interesting human beings, caring for no one, needing nothing?  _Wasn't_ she?

If this was so…

…why was it that she felt this way now?  Hadn't her mother always told her that she was such a boring little girl?  A boring person doesn't harbor emotions like these.

In some odd, elusive way, Sohma Yuki had changed her.  Because of him and his kindness towards her, she had become a different person.  What kind of person she didn't know, but she wasn't that boring, emotionless girl her mother—and herself—had believed her to be.  No, not any longer.  She was a real, existing, living person who could feel—sorrow—hope—dream—love.

That last thought had slipped into her mind before she could push it back.  She pushed it away now.  Love?  She laughed at herself.  Love was a void in her body.  She could love no one—and no one could love her.  She was one of those lonely, pitiable (and perhaps even envied) human beings that love overlooked altogether.  She did not, could not, would not love.  This she did not doubt, even for a moment.  She dismissed the thought scornfully.

The first rosy-golden streaks of morning had streamed in through the cracks in her window when she had finally opened her eyes.  Quickly she absorbed what must have happened.  She had fallen too deeply in her thoughts again, unknowing, uncaring of the passing time.  She went through the rest of the morning rather vaguely, dimly recollecting after she had eaten breakfast that she had left her textbooks on her bed.  Only when she found and picked up the maple leaf spread out among all the wreckage in her bedroom did she recall her heartfelt thoughts of the night.

She gazed at it fixedly and critically, before tucking it away in the folds of her textbook.

She was still plain, dull Kuragi Machi.

No one could change that. 


	2. Yuki Enters

**Disclaimer:** Still don't own it. Zapenstap—Aaaah, thank you for your kind review. I was contemplating on whether to keep on with this story (I found out too late that not many people support the Yuki/Machi pairing), but I will now. I'd be honored to have this posted on your website. 

This chapter takes place after Chapter 95, as there are references to Yuki's injury at the banquet.

Quotes from Machi's flashbacks are from Shadow's Fruba Translation Pages. Links are in the Fruity Group ML (Yahoo! Groups).

Everyone finds you boring and doesn't want anything to do with you… 

The firm, rigid line of her lips quivered dangerously under the impact of those words. Not in anger, not in sorrow, but in pain. The pain rose from her lips into her eyes, digging deep into the murky brown hue and rooting itself into the pupils. This face, reflected in the mirror… Her reflection usually showed that of a stolid, expressionless girl of sixteen. Today, they showed that of a woman stricken with grief.

Why had these words come back to haunt her these days? She had always pretended that she didn't care, always resolved that it wouldn't matter. She had never before minded fading into the background, sinking into the shadows, being alone. Hiding away in her shell – behind the calm, emotionless barrier she put up – it was almost an escape for her. But the more she tried to escape, the deeper she was reeled back in, into the wreckage of her family. Inheritance – successors – it suddenly didn't matter to her – never did matter to her.

A perfect girl – if she had been that, she would no longer have to hide. She had tried so hard to become that image, tried to please her mother, tried to impress her father, but in the end, she failed them all. She failed her mother, her father, herself. She failed to be someone they could all be proud of. And what had she gained from it? Nothing. Her attempts had ended in ash, even though she had worked so hard to make them happy.

But her losses…she recounted them bitterly. She had lost her mother's respect, when she had tried without avail to bring Machi up. She had lost her brother, who was, in spite of his lazy, noisy demeanor, intelligent enough to escape from it all. She had lost her soul, most of all, leaving her with an empty, useless shell in which she could do nothing with but hide behind, isolated from the outside world.

A necessary presence…she had wondered to herself whether her presence was necessary, if indeed she could be of some use in this world. Some small use…that would be enough for her. No, she only stood in the way, blocking others from progressing along their paths, unwanted by everyone.

At school, she was called a "mess demon", always trashing areas with spilled papers and knocked-over textbooks. She had promised so many times that she would stop, but the next day she would do it again. It was something she couldn't stop, no matter how hard she tried. And…his words…what had Yuki said again?

_Why you do it. We need to understand that._

The others remarked upon his comments as "deep" and "princely," in spite of his protests to the contrary. But how could they understand? Manabe was lost to her – Kimi was too high-spirited and carefree – Naoto was always caught up in work. They wouldn't be able to understand her – their lives were too different from her own.

The messes she started, the wreckage she invoked upon defenseless vicinities… These messes were subconsciously made to resemble that of her own troubled life, to convey the wreckage she tried to escape from and fell back on. She never said a word of this to others, and so instead they subjected it to clumsiness and irresponsibility. It was less humiliating to blame it on carelessness than – than to a comparison from the ruins of her existence.

You never change, do you… 

Once again, her mother's seemingly harmless words cut against her soul and flayed her heart. It was true…She had never once let change enter her mental and emotional being…No matter how much she changed physically, she was still that same, insignificant little girl she had always been. She had really believed once that she _had_ changed, but it was an illusion…a desperate conclusion made from delirium. She had never changed…why would she think she could start now?

But…

_I was wondering how you happened to see this world in your eyes._

It had been the first time anyone had ever said that kind of thing to her. Even though the others had never minded her silence, her reserve, Yuki had wanted to know _her_ opinion, _her_ interests. He had wanted to know _her_. No one had ever reached out to her in that way before. He had even remembered asking her what color she liked, though she had supposed he had forgotten it. Even so…

"Machi!"

The scuffling sound of her shoes hitting the pavement ceased. That voice… Calling to her once again… How sweet it sounded on his low tones, how gentle the syllables echoed against the wind… She had forgotten her troubles for the moment, because of _him._

"I didn't expect to see you here." Her torso pivoted, eyes alighting on the cheerful face of a slender, silver-haired boy. His right hand was lightly cupped, caressing his forehead under the rippling grey tresses.

"The President was not at school today…are you alright?" Her tone carried none of the worry she had felt for him; instead, it was dull, placid, a question that might have been asked by a mere stranger. Nevertheless, Yuki answered it nonchalantly.

"Yeah…I just got checked out from the hospital. It's okay, just a slight injury." He entreated her with a bright smile, to assure her of the mildness of his wounds.

"How was the President injured?" Her gaze fixated itself onto his forehead.

"Ah, it was at New Year's…I got hit with a bottle…" His voice trailed off, apparently being reminded of the past events. He did not add from whom he had sustained his injury. "But it's okay, really," he went on hastily.

She retreated into her remote, silent state, the lids of her eyes drooping placidly. It felt – awkward – to be talking to another person like this, to be burdening them with her presence. She could serve no use to anyone; she reflected on walking away, to do Sohma Yuki a favor by this. But before she could do so, Yuki's voice interrupted her.

"It was my fault, really… All my life, I've been blaming this mess I've been in on other people." He chanced a breath, taking in Machi's unwavering stare. His long-lashed eyes, glowing a sheeny silver against the prisms of gold and grey, slanted dreamily in a weird, trance-like expression. It was as if some age-old soul of centenarian wisdom inhabited this effeminate male only just in his seventeenth year. "But I've realized something lately…

"…there's no point in blaming other people for the way your life's turned out. If I was as such a fool to not do something about it, then it's my fault, and no one else's. I've been thinking about it, and I've decided to take charge of my own life. I won't let anyone decide what's best for me. I want to do it myself." He laughed jubilantly, which, as Machi noted, held no drop of bitterness and sarcasm Yuki's laughs usually had long before. "It's strange, I suppose, but…"

He uplifted his face serenely to the evening sky, which was blotted with early, pulsating gems of stars. "I don't blame them anymore, _can't _blame them anymore, because the cold, hard truth of it is in front of me. It's something I have to change, something I have to control. We all have to change sometime, right?"

The strange "feel" to his words and uplifted gestures died away, leaving the same but ever-still confident young boy. Confidence…something Yuki had always before been shunned of and his older brother overflowed in, but something strangely akin to that pervaded his very essence just then, a strong-held determination to set things right, to fix what needed fixing. His life had, ever since he was a child, lain around him in ruins of disrepair. Now, it was up to him to make something out of it – to reap out of the times that he had changed and grown the most – to begin to steadily rebuild a bright new future from the burnt-out ashes of his childhood, no matter what obstacles may lay in the way. That "closed lid" in which he had determinedly veiled his emotions – it was open – finally open – from that moment, that night with Tohru and the shooting star, the memories of the red hat and the girl he had helped, the walk in which Akito had told him the truth – the hard, yet undeniable truth – it had opened. It had given him the confidence to rebuild and renew, the perseverance to belong among others, the courage to defy Akito. But – how long it would stay open, he wondered…

He just then remembered his faithful listener, who had stood so patiently throughout his moment of reflection. It was, he slowly realized, a little comforting for her to be there, and just watch with those steady, immortal darkness of eyes, listen gently and empathically. Her presence meant more to him than he realized, because she listened with a grave feeling of understanding, rather unlike Tohru's kind and well-meant, but somewhat saccharine, motherly way of listening.

"I'm…sorry to have bothered you with this, Machi…But it was something I had to get off my chest… You can forget it if you want." Yuki reverted his glance back to the younger teen, somewhat taken aback by the startled expression in her brown eyes. "Are you…okay?" he asked nervously, worried that he might have offended her during his speech. The same subtle way he had offended Akito.

"I'm…fine. The President shouldn't worry himself about me."

"Did…I offend you in any way?" Again, the questions, Machi thought, though they were welcome questions. He was really…worried…about her. She felt a queer ache in her chest, a rather pleasant one, strangely enough, but she managed to repress it.

"No…but shouldn't the President be getting home?" she inquired quietly.

"Huh? Oh – yes, I suppose they'll be getting worried." _Two of them, at any rate_, he accounted in his thoughts. Then he turned, Machi watching as his footsteps retreated slowly from her side. "It was nice talking to you, Machi… See ya."

She was alone again, alone in the shadowy darkness of the night. But –

_"…there's no point in blaming other people for the way your life's turned out."_

_"…it's something I have to change…"_

_"…we all have to change sometime, right?"_

His words… Though he had been talking quite casually about his life, his matters, his words were true for her own life, too. He did understand what it was to have to live up to others' expectations and to fail them; he did understand what it was to be living in a "mess." And then…he was quite ready to fight against it, to change, to "take charge." It was something he had to do, and it was something she had to do, too.

She remembered thinking of Yuki as a lonely person…but strangely, had not even thought this of herself. She had considered herself alone, in all aspects, but lonely, a very different thing, had never crossed her mind. Yet now...with another parallel between him and her...a struggle to exist, to live...it was just dawning on her how similar they really were. She was, in fact, a lonely person in this world, but...maybe the thought had never occurred to her because she didn't feel like one around him.

And…

At school, his classmates admired him for his beauty, his intelligence, his talent. In whole, they admired him for his altogether "princeliness." Even now, Machi denied that Yuki was, or had ever been, a prince. But after he said those things to her, she came to the conclusion that she did admire him. Not for his looks or talents, but for his grim, set determination to climb out of a mess that he had been unwillingly thrown in. This was something she wanted, and so thereby would work towards receiving.

Still, it felt rather unusual that someone who seemed so strange to her...

...always seemed so close...

**How nice it is to have someone truly understand you...**

**A/N:** That thing about Machi making messes to portray her own life as a mess was really only a theory of mine… It could just be that she's clumsy or something, but I like my idea better. XD Plus, Manabe said something about Machi not being able to escape from the "mess," so…

Next chapter will probably a Yuki one… It might be a lot harder, since he doesn't really think anything of Machi yet, except someone who doesn't see him as a "prince." We'll see about _that_. (:


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